All On Her Lonesome
by DraftingWhite
Summary: Basically what Cassandra is up to on her own at castle Araluen.
1. Chapter 1

_Cassandra_

"Go to your room and stay there Cassandra," if I had a silver coin for every time I heard that phrase, I could go buy myself a new castle. My father, the 'good' King Duncan, does this every time he has 'business' and every time, I wonder, what are they talking about? Why does it require such secrecy? I know he probably has a reason, but right now it just seems unfair and I refuse to be left out of the loop.

I strip off my extra skirts so I stand only in my thin sapphire slip. Then I rummage around in the trunk at the foot of my bed until my fingers brush the soft wool of my cloak. Tugging it out of the trunk, I make for my chamber door, throwing the cloak around myself and clasping the front as I walk. The green and grey mottled wool swishes as I pull the deep cowl over my head. The heavy fabric drapes across my slim shoulders and flutters around my bare feet as I creep down hallway after hallway toward my father's office. The cloak, courtesy of Crowley, the Ranger Corps Commandant, would distort my shape to any looking my way and hopefully hide me from view.

Now, creeping past the guard in front of the door, I send silent thanks to the hours I spent practicing soundless movement and silent curses to the freezing winter weather. My feet aching of cold, I notice the entire length of the hall is lit only by a single torch on the wall opposite the door. It casts a wavering, uneven light, and because this part of the castle isn't near the walls, there are no windows to add visibility. The two guards on either side of the door are completely lax as I slide slowly and patiently by on my belly, pulling myself forward with my elbows. Directly underneath the torch, the shifting light and fluctuating shadows combined with my indistinct cloak and steady measured movements prevent me from being seen. I don't look back as I propel my self around the corner and into the next hall.

As soon as I pull my feet up beside me, out of sight, I'm up and running light and silent to the supposed dead end down the next passage and to the right, at the back of the office. I head straight for the right-hand wall, feeling along the smooth, frigid stone until the surface roughens to the touch, about two thirds of the way down the corridor. Looking up, I see the faint outline of the small open space halfway up the wall that is my target.

The shallow hand and foot holds were definitely made with a man in mind as I had difficulty reaching from one to the next, but I soon felt the wider surface of the small tunnel. Note to self: practice climbing more walls. I pull myself up into the low passage and begin to stand, realizing as soon as I push up, that I will have to crawl forward on my stomach.

Swearing in the most un-princess like fashion, (my father would have my head, Crowley would be rolling on the floor laughing) I pull myself down the tiny space, the beginnings of a raging headache echoing through my skull. I feel my slip snagging on the rough stone and swear some more. _I am going to hear it from my maids_, I think, letting out a long sigh.

With that thought firmly in my head, I don't hear the voices starting to drift through the air until I come upon the bantam holes in the wall. I push back the deep cowl of my cloak and the voices come clearer, but are still indecipherable. I put my ear to the tiny holes and strain my hearing…

"… doesn't care. Doesn't… proper lady…" I adjust my position against the wall so I can hear the good King Duncan talking about me.

"She needs discipline, something she's not getting here." My father's angry growl reaches me through the wall.

The calm reply comes from none other than Crowley, "Duncan, you haven't exactly been sending her to finishing school since she was 13."

I hear a dull thud, probably my father's fist against the sturdy oak desk, "What has she been doing if not learning to be a good woman? What has she been learning and who has been teaching her?"

"She has been trying to learn how to be a good queen." The unexpected reply to the king's questions comes from a new voice. Quiet and thoughtful, the speaker continues, "To rule the people, one must understand the people. Cassandra is trying to teach herself, without help, how to understand and aid her people. It seems she is the only one who knows she will need it one day."

"Yes, but she's sneaking out of the castle, running through the streets in a tunic and leggings of all things! _My daughter_ is a menace among my guards at night; they all have either bruises or nightmares from her!"

An audible sigh left someone's lips.

Of course, it was Crowley who acknowledged that someone, "Yes, Horace? Do you have a thought?"

I freeze. Horace? What is he doing here? I blink, shock rocking me away from the wall. Why is Horace in a meeting with Crowley and my father? I press my head against the holes into the wall in a desperate attempt to hear his every word.

"Well," he was saying, "With all due respect sir, Cassandra feels trapped here. She knows this is her home and she is grateful for it, but she feels like a bird in a cage."

"And all she can do is rock that cage back and forth until it falls over," the thoughtful voice joins in again. "Duncan, the boy has a valid point. You're going to have to let her out at some point. I suggest now, before she is burdened with the responsibilities of a kingdom and a husband."

I can hear my father growling something, which is followed by smothered snickers from around the room. Crowley's amused voice becomes audible once again, "It's the inevitable future, sorry old friend." His voice is then back to its original seriousness, "Let Cassandra travel the countryside, you need to give her something to do outside the castle or she will keep terrorizing your guards. She won't be alone, if that's what you're worried about. She will have Horace, and he is more that capable of ensuring her safety."

I sense a long pause with quite a bit of sighing on my father's side, so I capitalize on the opportunity to shift my position and massage the feeling back into my arm, which had fallen asleep as a result of my laying on it. Rolling onto my back in the narrow stone passage to relax a little, a shooting pain lances through the back of my head as I'm lying back against the floor. I sit straight up in a momentary forgetful panic, thinking I must have put my head on something, and I smack right into the low ceiling for a second time. Then I swear quietly a little more and hurriedly put my ear to the wall as I hear my father begin to speak again.

"Alright," he says, "Tomorrow I'll-"

"Don't put this off Duncan, do it now," The stranger speaks up, cutting my father off midsentence.

As soon as I hear that, I scramble to back out of the tiny space. I'm halfway down the wall when I hear "My lady?" whispered below me. As familiar as the voice is, it shatters my concentration on the wall and, startled, I jump slightly, slip off the wall and fall the last 3 meters, landing hard on my ass.

"What," I all but yell at my maid, Elena. She took over as my hand maid after Evanlyn was killed by Morgarath's wargals several years ago.

Her tone immediately switches to one of concern, "Princess! Are you alright?"

"Does it look like I'm alright? Because I sure don't feel like it," I growl as Elena helps me to my feet. As soon as I stand, she takes my cloak, wrapping it around her own shoulders as she grabs my hand and runs back down the halls towards my suite.

"Hurry my lady! Your father sent for you not a minute ago!" We take the long way around to the back entrance of my rooms and enter just as a strong knock resounds from the front door.

"Who is it?" I call charmingly trying to quickly calm my racing breath.

Elena is studying my snagged slip and decides quickly that it is worth saving. She strips me of the blue garment and quickly tosses me a rose colored one to put on. I stare at her until she pulls out a pale green one and hands it to me, sighing as she pulls the pink garment from my grasp.

The reply comes from the door as Elena is dressing my in a simple emerald affair with silver embroidery, "It's Horace. Your father wants to see you." Elena giggles and I glare at her.

Finally catching my breath after the dash through the halls, I say, "Well what does he want?" I feel a brush being pulled through my hair and stop moving to avoid any pain at the tangles.

"He…" trailing off as if to think, he pauses. The only sound is the brush rasping across my soft blonde hair. After a moment, Horace resumes speaking, "Just come see him. Please Cassandra; just do as he asks for once."

I wait until Elena has finished with my hair, which now drapes around my shoulders in its sad short state, and then I stand and abruptly open the door to find my knight leaning against the wall opposite my rooms. He straightens when he sees me then smiles and starts walking in the direction of the king's office. I look back and gesture for Elena to stay in my suite and I hurry after Horace.

"Thank you," he says about half way to our destination.

"For what?" I ask, puzzled.

"For not putting up an argument or demanding a reason. For just coming quietly."

I stop walking, "You make it sound like I'm being arrested or something."

Horace stops walking and turns around. He steps toward me and takes my hand, slowly bringing it up to his lips. "Or something," he says quietly, a small smile touching his features. There is a guarded look in his brown eyes that I have never seen before and, mystified, I can only follow dumbly, thinking about how much my knight in shining armor has changed in seven short years.

When I first met him, Horace was the brave, guileless, righteous soldier who believed in plain good and had no mind for the intricacies of politics or even for elaborate battle plans. At one point, he told me "I just wait until somebody says 'Go whack him.' " He was so open and honest then. Now I'm afraid he is being taken by the secrecy and the conspiratorial way of court life. We all just have to play the game.

The guards at the door nod to Horace and he opens it and motions for me to enter. He closes the door behind him as he steps inside the king's office. Inside, on the left side of the room, my father is sitting in the high backed chair behind his desk and leaning against the desk is Crowley, the hood of his ranger cloak cascading to the middle of his back. In the simple wooden chair beside the door sat the ranger Halt, good friend to Crowley and trusted confidant of the Commandant and the king, cowl also thrown back, ankle on knee and arms crossed in his grim fashion. He must have been the quiet, reasonable voice I heard earlier.

The study is lit by five torches, two behind my father, and one on each of the rest of the walls. Horace takes up a post beside the door and I step to the center of the flickering light and wait for my father to begin his inevitable speech. I ignore the expected respectful curtsy and instead I hold my head high and clasp my hands behind my back.

I look King Duncan in the eye, refusing to speak first. "Cassandra," he says, business-like in his delivery, "it has come to my attention that you are stalking and attacking my guards in the courtyard at night. You have also been sneaking out during the day and running through the streets causing mayhem in the marketplace." Pausing to glance at Crowley, he then continues pointedly, "You have also, somehow, obtained a ranger cloak." Crowley lowers his head as my father speaks and I know he has told my father he gave me the cloak.

I glare at him as he refuses to meet my gaze, hurt emanates from me as I recall the words on the note that was left outside my door with the cloak. 'Our little secret' had been scrawled on a square of parchment in Crowley's short script and folded into the fabric. _Well apparently not_ I think, narrowing my eyes at the unmoving figure leaning against my father's desk.

"Cassandra," father continues, "I want to send you away from here." That statement floors me. "I want you to go and live at castle Redmont for a while," he says. I know my head is still pulsing with the dull pain of colliding with the dull stone of the tunnel, but I'm positive I just heard the wonderful King Duncan say he was sending me away. "I trust Baron Arald enough to send you there and since you are so keen on using weapons, I will have Rodney work with you on swordsmanship."

I am almost exploding with excitement at this point, though I manage to retain my composure. "When will I be leaving?" I ask as sedately as I can.

"You and Horace will be leaving with me the day after tomorrow," Halt speaks up this time.

"Tomorrow you will need to go to the armory for a sword, a bow, and arrows," Father tells me as I look over my shoulder at Horace, who beaming, shrugs. My eyes return to my father and I nod, a wide smile breaking out of my lips.

I dash around the desk and throw my arms around his neck, "Thank you daddy!" I beam, easily falling into the roll of the ecstatic daughter. He smiles and laughs gruffly, squeezing my shoulder with a strong hand.

"You're welcome Cassie. Now don't make me regret this decision." He means 'don't me look bad by causing trouble', but I see it as 'don't have too much fun because that is not why I am doing this'.

Smiling, I again glance at Horace who also has an expression of barely concealed excitement on his face. My father must notice because he looks at the two of us and sends us off for the night, dismissing Horace from his duties at the castle for the day. "Get some sleep, both of you," he says, "You have a long day of preparation tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

_Cassandra_

Amber liquid flows into my glass, filling it up for the third time. "Are you sure you've had enough?" Horace asks as he replaces the decanter of mead on the small table in my parlor. We wanted to celebrate the news of a trip to somewhere other than Castle Araluen, though I am sure he is also celebrating the news of getting to see all his old friends again, especially Will. I feel his closeness when he leans across the low table between us to whisper in my ear, "I wouldn't want to get you into trouble- my head would be forfeit."

He retreats back to his couch and I flush a deep red, putting my hand to my mouth in an attempt to contain the inevitable giggle. Attempt failed. I sip the honey sweet drink from my mug, the warmth spreading through me, lending me a boldness I wouldn't have possessed otherwise. "Oh, good sir Horace," I lean forward, chin resting in my palm, "I do believe you are off duty. You are no more accountable for my actions then Elena is."

My knight mimics me, leaning forward and putting his chin in his palm, "Ah, yes. The faithful maid," he raises an eyebrow, "and where, pray tell, is she this fine evening?

"I sent her out for a night in the town. I imagine she is in a tavern somewhere or with her secret lover." I giggle and lounge back on my couch.

Both of Horace's dark eyebrows went up at this. "_Elena_ has a secret lover?" The exclamation is overdramatic, but I laugh out loud all the same.

"Well I don't know where she runs off to every night, she could very well have one for all I know!" We laugh and giggle for a few minutes, then I stand and walk to the right side of the room, snuffing out the candles I had lit.

Horace's mead-heated gaze follows me as I traverse the room, dousing all the smaller candles, leaving only the two blazing torches for light. I step lightly to the back of his couch and place my hands on his shoulders, moving my thumbs in circular motions. "You know, Elena thinks we are secret lovers."

"Does she?" He keeps his eyes fixed on the half filled glass of mead on the table in front of him. Not sounding surprised, he asks the inevitable, "Why would she think that?"

I have to pause to collect my thoughts and think about what to say. I had only ever told her that Horace and I were friends and never would be more than that. Of course, she never believed me. "I told her how I feel about you," I say finally.

He doesn't speak; we know how we feel about one another. He grabs my hands and pulls me down over his shoulder so our heads are together. I sigh and close my eyes, cheeks flushing as I feel his lips press into my neck in a warm lingering kiss.

My father would absolutely die.

I relax against my knight, curling my arms around his stomach when he finally releases my hands. Feeling his muscles beneath the thin court tunic, I smile, my eyes still closed, while thinking for the thousandth time of what Horace would look like without his shirt on.

He chuckles like he knows what I'm thinking and takes my hands again, this time guiding them lower to the buckle of his sword belt. Aware of the burn in my stomach, I open my eyes and smoothly undo the buckle. He picks up his sword, still attached to the belt, and drops it behind the couch where it lands with a muted clang.

Again Horace takes my hands, marshaling them to the bottom of his tunic where my fingers tighten around the hem. The gentle pressure of his hands move mine upwards, revealing the flawless skin and taut muscle beneath. I have to remember to breathe as I pull the garment over his head, depositing it near his sword.

I step around the couch so I stand in front of him and hiking my skirts to my knees, I sit astride my shirtless knight. He easily slides his hands around my hips, travels up past my breasts to the top of my dress. My breath catches as his calloused fingers pull the forest green fabric from my shoulders, then my arms. I free my upper body from the dress, now crumpled around my waist, and lean into Horace. Lightly, I plant a trail of kisses from the hollow at the base of his neck to his lips, barely gracing his mouth with a brush of mine.

I feel his warm hands through my slip, one resting on my hip, the other on the upper part of my back pulling me closer to him. Our lips meet again, more passionate this time as he pulls on the back of my neck to come closer. Horace's skin is hot on my exploring hands, his muscles solid and confident under my fingers.

He pushes me over on the couch so I am lying on my back, momentarily breaking our contact. He pulls the dress the rest of the way off my feet and lets it fall to the floor while he settles on top of me. He lets out a long sigh as his mouth travels down my neck finding the spot near the base that drives me crazy.

I gasp and he quickly takes me by storm, fastening his lips to mine and kissing me hard, pressing me further into the cushions. We are so close that I can feel his heart pounding against my skin. One of his hands slides up my thigh and up to my waist, bunching the pale green slip up on my hip.

Then my knight froze. He moves his hands so they just support his weight over me and let his forehead drop onto mine. "Damn," he says.

I let loose a grunt of frustration then followed it with a defeated sigh. "Rules," I groan to the air.

Horace lets out a frustrated breath as well, "I know. The one thing we aren't allowed to do."

"The one thing we aren't allowed to do _yet_," I correct him.

He smiles down at me and I smile back. "Yet," he repeats.


End file.
